


when i've got nowhere else to go

by helloearthlings



Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Platonic Life Partners, Platonic Soulmates, Post episode 75, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:59:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloearthlings/pseuds/helloearthlings
Summary: “I’ll get Jack in the Box,” Ben said tonelessly instead, and rose back to his feet, his phone already in his hand.Sammy stared at Ben as he made the order, noticed the dark bags under his eyes, the sagging of his shoulders, the way his voice cracked, subdued and so, so tired.The first night back, Ben hadn’t been able to stop crying. He’d thrown himself at Sammy the second they met in the school parking lot, clinging and crying and getting snot all over Sammy’s shirt. Ben had told Sammy that he loved him more often that night than Sammy had ever heard those words at once.But since the next morning – since they saw the carnage that was their radio station, since they saw Chet in the hospital with a breathing tube down his throat, since they saw Cecil Sheffield’s condition slide from bad to worse, Ben had practically stopped talking altogether.





	when i've got nowhere else to go

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my day consisted only of listening to all the episodes Beyond the Falls and thinking about how much Ben and Sammy love each other. My job this summer is gonna be some fresh hell so thanks for my life, King Falls AM, you're gonna be what gets me through.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Ben’s apartment was never quiet.

Noise accompanied Ben wherever he went – if it wasn’t his mile-a-minute jabbering, it was him tripping over his own feet, it was the sounds of him slamming pots and pans together in his kitchen, it was the sound of his TV blaring at all hours of the day, the sound of Peas the sugar glider chirping.

Maybe that was what was missing, Sammy thought as he sat on Ben’s worn sofa, toying with a hole in the fabric.

Because right now, Ben’s apartment was quiet. Silent. Deadly silent.

It put Sammy on edge.

Because it wasn’t Peas. It was Ben himself who was withdrawn, distant, wouldn’t make eye contact, spoke only when Sammy spoke to him, and Sammy wasn’t used to being in the role of making conversation.

Only one of them could be distant and emotionally unavailable at a time, and Sammy figured that two near-death experiences in one night should be grounds for claiming the position.

Ben, however, clearly thought otherwise, and had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since that awful night.

For instance, Sammy barely heard the footsteps that signaled Ben walking into the living room from the hall, and really only looked up when the couch creaked under Ben’s weight as he sat on the opposite edge, nowhere near Sammy. His hoodie was pulled up around his head, his hands shoved deep in the pockets, and he didn’t meet Sammy’s eye.

“You want take out?” Ben said, his voice a little rough around the edges.

“As long as it’s not gentrified chicken,” Sammy said, trying and failing to joke, as his tone fell flat and monotone. Ben didn’t as much as blink.

“I’ll get Jack in the Box,” Ben said tonelessly instead, and rose back to his feet, his phone already in his hand.

Sammy stared at Ben as he made the order, noticed the dark bags under his eyes, the sagging of his shoulders, the way his voice cracked, subdued and so, so tired.

The first night back, Ben hadn’t been able to stop crying. He’d thrown himself at Sammy the second they met in the school parking lot, clinging and crying and getting snot all over Sammy’s shirt. Ben had told Sammy that he loved him more often that night than Sammy had ever heard those words at once.

But since the next morning – since they saw the carnage that was their radio station, since they saw Chet in the hospital with a breathing tube down his throat, since they saw Cecil Sheffield’s condition slide from bad to worse, Ben had practically stopped talking altogether.

It made living in Ben’s apartment more than a little awkward, but the fact of the matter was that Sammy really had no other place to go. And besides, even with Ben as closed off as he was, he thought the little guy would probably rather chain Sammy to the couch than let him go into the world that hadn’t been suicide-proofed by Ben and Troy’s careful sweep of all dangers in the apartment.

Even as numb as Sammy was, he loved them for it. But Ben’s mime act had gone on for all this week, with no real conversation beyond Sammy telling him that of course, of course he was going to stay, that it was never his plan go anywhere but the Devil’s Doorstep, and it wouldn’t take him, it _fucking_ wouldn’t take him –

Ben had hugged him then, tight enough to break bones, but that had been their only real meaningful contact since the night everything fell apart.

Now the two of them, in a fit of newfound unemployment, watched Parks and Recreation together on Ben’s tiny television in silence, and once in a blue moon Sammy would laugh at a joke to see if Ben would join him.

He didn’t. He looked at the television, kneels curled up to his chest, eyes glazed over and not really seeing anything.

“Jack in the Box is on its way,” Ben interrupted Sammy’s stream of worry, which wasn’t fair. He was the one who almost died that night. He shouldn’t have to be the one who was worrying about Ben.

But he’d always be the one worrying about Ben – hadn’t he accepted that years ago?

“Okay,” Sammy said, forcing himself to meet Ben’s eyes, still with that glazed over quality that made Sammy’s chest ache.

Ben jerked his head in the direction of the hallway as if he was about to leave, but Sammy was sick of not saying anything, of avoiding the subject, because goddammit, he knew this silent act was his fault.

“Hey, buddy?” Sammy said, and Ben stopped moving.

“Yeah?”

His voice wasn’t exactly encouraging, but it wasn’t a dismissal either, so Sammy pressed on.

“You…doing all right?” Sammy said. It sounded trite. Of course Ben wasn’t doing all right. He wouldn’t be acting like this if he was doing all right.

Ben blinked at him, and Sammy knew he was as unimpressed with the question as Sammy was. “Fucking skippy. Can I go take a piss now?”

Sammy almost just let him go, but he and Ben had been cooped up in this apartment together for days now and he was ready to get confrontational. “Can we yell at each other for a couple minutes first? We can usually solve most of our problems that way.”

He smiled weakly. Ben’s mouth didn’t even twitch, but Sammy liked to think it was because Ben was willfully trying not to give away any weakness.

“I don’t wanna yell,” Ben said, not quite meeting Sammy’s eyes. “I’m pretty sure that yelling at suicidal people is not what Google recommends.”

“Not talking to me isn’t exactly your best route of action either,” Sammy retorted, trying to filter any anger out of his voice. “And I’m not suicidal. Anymore.”

Sammy picked at the hole in the couch again to stop from thinking too much about that.

Ben raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m pretty sure walking into the Devil’s…I mean, walking into that place with the intention of getting swallowed up isn’t something non-suicidal people do for kicks.”

“I…” Sammy swallowed the lump in his throat. “I just wanted to see him again. I wasn’t going to – to slit my wrists or anything. Even if I’d thought about it before, I wasn’t going to.”

Something in Ben’s face tightened up at the mention of thinking about it before, and Sammy felt a heavy and hot swoop of guilt in his gut.

“Same difference,” Ben said quietly, voice wavering just a little. “You were leaving me either way.”

“Ben –” Sammy started, a sick feeling spreading throughout his body, but apparently that was all Ben needed to keep going, his voice broken and hands shaking, and god, Sammy did this to him, this was his fault, this was his fault.

“How could you just leave me like that? Without a goodbye?” Ben took an involuntary step toward him, but his body seemed to hold him back from taking another, jolting backward when he realized. “Let me think you were going back to a life somewhere but instead just throwing yourself into the Void? How could you think that I’d _survive_ that? You _saw_ me after Emily was taken. You knew what it would do to me.”

“Ben, that’s exactly it,” Sammy said, squeezing his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to look at Ben’s betrayed eyes. “You have Emily now. You love Emily and she loves you. There’s nothing standing in your way anymore. You were going to be okay – you were going to be happy.”

Something in Ben’s expression changed. There was a flicker of something – shock, disbelief, then something decidedly more compassionate than he’d been since that night where he’d sobbed _I love you, please don’t go, I love you_ into Sammy’s chest.

“Sammy,” Ben said, slowly and clearly, enunciating every syllable, “there _is_ no okay for me without you. You get that, right?”

“You would’ve been okay,” Sammy stood by his statement, even as the room felt smaller and hotter under Ben’s wide-eyed gaze. “Not right away, but you would’ve been. You and Emily would’ve had each other, you would’ve been fine if I –”

Sammy found he couldn’t finish the sentence. Ben’s gaze became much steelier in a matter of seconds.

“Sammy, you _saw_ me after I lost Emily,” Ben’s voice tightened, tears clearly threatening to spill over those his eyes remained dry. “It broke me. How could you think that this wouldn’t break me all over again?”

“Because you have –” Sammy started helplessly, knowing it was fruitless as Ben interrupted him with a flash of anger in his eyes.

“Because I have Emily? Having you didn’t stop me from breaking apart when Emily was gone, and having Emily sure as hell wouldn’t have stopped me from breaking apart without you,” Ben said, his usually heated voice going almost cold. Sammy knew it was to stop himself from starting to cry. His lips quivered before he sealed them together with a hard bite.

“It’s a little different…” Sammy trailed off, knowing he couldn’t even finish the thought, that this argument was a losing battle on his end. He had hurt Ben. He knew it. He needed to deal with that and try to make it right.

“When you called and I heard those rainbow lights,” Ben started again, a sick expression crossing his face, “I felt it all over again. The exact same way. The helplessness. The nausea. How powerless I was to stop it. _Exactly_ the same.”

“I’m sorry,” Sammy said, because there was nothing else he could say right now, and also because he meant it. “You know – you know you’re the reason. The reason I never tried anything before now. And the only reason – the _only_ reason I went to the doorstep – was for Jack. You do understand that, right? I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I thought you’d….I thought that if you thought I’d just left without a goodbye, you wouldn’t try to find me. Wouldn’t hurt yourself. I thought it was what was best – for everyone.”

“Well. You were wrong,” Ben said, but his voice had mellowed somewhat, become a little more ordinary, almost teasing, even if it was still too subdued. “Sammy, I’ve gotta say this now or I won’t ever. But you and Emily – you matter the exact same amount to me. I love you both equally. Just because I love you like a brother and not a boyfriend doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

Sammy felt a surge of pain that had everything to do with his heart, even if he felt in shake and rattle his entire body. “Ben. You – you’re all I have. I love you. Like a brother and not a boyfriend, but – but also just as much as I love Jack. I – I shouldn’t have done that to you. Not without a goodbye, or an explanation, I just – I just want you to be safe and happy. That’s all I ever wanted.”

Ben smiled at him for what felt like the first time in years, even if it had only been a few days. Even though the smile was watery and shaky, it was still there.

“Then dude – you’ve gotta stay,” Ben said, his voice leaving no room for argument, not that Sammy would, not after this. “There’s no Ben Arnold without Sammy Stevens, alright? And not just in the journalist way. In every way. All imaginable ways. Alright?”

“Alright,” Sammy conceded, and it seemed that the word gave Ben permission, for he lunged forward a second later to lock Sammy in a long, tight hug.

“Hey, there’s Ben Arnold,” Sammy almost laughed as Ben stumbled across the couch to land in Sammy’s arms. “Don’t get all withdrawn and quiet again, okay? It doesn’t suit you, Medium Rage.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben said into Sammy’s shoulder. “I just didn’t know what to say or do or – or anything. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t deal. I’m sorry. Just promise you’ll stay. Just promise you’ll stay and I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m staying,” Sammy squeezed Ben even tighter, resting his forehead against Ben’s shoulder blade. “Someone’s gotta keep you on the straight and narrow.”

Ben snorted before saying “Ha. _Straight_.”

Sammy laughed harder than he could remember laughing in weeks. He didn’t remember that he could laugh like that at all, really. Ben laughed with him, and it felt right. How could Sammy have done that to Ben? To do something horrible and self-destructive to himself – well, Sammy had proved time and time again he was capable of that. But hurting Ben in the process? No, he couldn’t do that again. Not for anything.

Sammy started to let go of Ben, but Ben just seemed to hold on tighter, so Sammy gave in and let him.

“I know that sometimes when you look at me, you see Jack,” Ben mumbled against Sammy’s shirt collar, and Sammy immediately tried to correct him, even though he couldn’t count how many times he saw Jack’s smile, Jack’s passion, Jack’s _fire_ in Ben’s face.

“It’s not the same –” Sammy started, but Ben cut him off.

“I know it isn’t,” Ben said. “But I just wanted to say that it’s okay. Because after that night, I keep seeing Emily when I look at you. I keep seeing you disappearing. And I think I understand now – how worried you were, how paranoid you were, about me trying to risk my life. Because I can’t lose you. I _can’t_. I need you to be okay. I need us to be okay.”

“I don’t think I can ever be okay without Jack,” Sammy admitted, a queasy feeling in his stomach. “But I can try to make _us_ okay.”

“You’ll look, though?” Ben finally broke their hug to look Sammy in the eye, his own eyes wild and fierce with anticipation and _hope_. The kid killed Sammy when he did shit like that, but Sammy still loved him for it. “You’ll help me look for him?”

“Yeah,” Sammy said with a nod, not letting himself hesitate, remembering that deep and unquenchable _knowing_ he’d felt at the Devil’s Doorstep, feeling Jack close to him, close enough to touch if only he could reach out. “I’ll help you look.”

Whether it was just to make sure Ben wasn’t alone or because he really thought he had what it took to save Jack, Sammy didn’t know. But he knew he couldn’t leave Ben, and he knew he couldn’t keep living without Jack. So that was really the only option for him right now.

It wasn’t a horrible option, he had to admit.

“If you ever feel like you’re gonna – like you want to –” Sammy could see the lump in Ben’s throat as he swallowed, and the look in Ben’s eye said that he couldn’t finish the thought, that it would hurt too much. “I know you know what it feels like to lose someone. So don’t make me go through that again, alright? Because we’re _not_ gonna do that to each other, not if we can help it. Not for Rainbow Lights, not for the Void, not for whatever fresh hell King Falls decides to dig up next. We’re not leaving each other.”

“We’re not leaving each other,” Sammy repeated, a promise. “Should we do this like real brothers and spit-shake on it?”

Ben made a face accompanied by some retching noises. “ _Ew._ Don’t be gross.”

“Blood oath, then?”

“If you think I’m letting you cut your hand, you’ve got another thing coming,” Ben said, his voice wavering just a little, and Sammy swallowed his fear to squeeze Ben’s hand quickly with his own.

“There,” Sammy said, clearing his throat to keep from tearing up. “No blood necessary.”

“Alright,” Ben said, squeezing back. “We gotta be Cecil and Herschel someday, okay? Promise me we’ll be ninety and crotchety and bickering about nothing on the radio together.”

“Well, I hope we’re a little less crotchety,” Sammy joked and Ben grinned at him. “Though technically, we’re not gonna be ninety at the same time. You’ll be ninety and I’ll be ninety-five –”

Ben groaned. “Stop it with the technicalities. It’s a ballpark range. Just promise you’ll be outside my hospital room day in and day out if a shadow monster decides to make a vessel out of me.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Sammy said, his stomach bubbling with nausea at the thought. “But I think you might have to promise that for me sooner rather than later. Who knows what fucking Perdition Wood did to scramble my insides?”

“Don’t talk about it,” Ben said, his jaw setting determinedly. “But I’ll fix it. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”

“Ben Arnold, professional fixer,” Sammy said as they squeezed hands again. “That’s you. And even with a lost cause like me. Takes some real determination.”

“Just because I haven’t done it yet doesn’t mean I can’t,” Ben said, his trademark stubbornness back along with the fire in his eyes. “And I will. That’s a promise, too.”


End file.
